


Five times Jos made it better for Joe (and one time that Joe made it better for Jos)

by Peggo



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Five Plus One, Fluff, joe root protection squad, just general softness, looking after each other -ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peggo/pseuds/Peggo
Summary: Five times Jos knows how to make it better for Joe, plus one time Joe makes it better for Jos.Pretty much what it says on the tin, just some general fluff and a gentle Jos and Joe fic.
Relationships: Joe Root & Ben Stokes, Jos Buttler/Joe Root
Comments: 14
Kudos: 9





	Five times Jos made it better for Joe (and one time that Joe made it better for Jos)

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly rogue, not been proofread, but here we are nonetheless.  
> Potential tw: controlling relationships in the first one but not in detail  
> Xx

* * *

Jos pulled up into Jimmy’s drive for their usual Wednesday Night Casserole Night, a tradition started when he had first joined Lancs Cricket, and continued whenever they could. As he approached the door he was shocked to see Poppy ringing the doorbell, looking frantic and irate and she hammered away at the door, phone clutched to her ear. Jos’ heart sank, his usual hard feelings to Joe’s girlfriend being replaced with concern for Joe himself. Poppy had made it quite clear that she found cricketers other than Joe quite a bore, and felt they ‘monopolised his time’ leaving her ‘all alone and do you know how hard that is for  _ me,  _ babe, do you’, and which always left Joe looking harried, working to console his girlfriend and becoming more and more distant from the other lads. 

Jos figured he’d have to bite the bullet at some point, he couldn’t sit in his car forever and he had to get past Poppy to get to Jimmy’s casserole. He sent off a quick text to Jimmy, and Ali for good measure, letting them know he was here, but also so was Poppy? And so he wasn’t sure what was going on there but if he could let him in as soon as he knocked that would be great, cheers. 

Jos walked towards the door from where he’d parked his car, and Poppy’s voice became clearer as he approached. 

“C’mon babe, you know Matt’s just a friend, look just call me back yeah? Why’re you being such a child about this, it’s like you don’t want me to have any friends at all, babe, just, eurgh, pick up your damn  _ phone _ for fuck’s sake Joe.”

Jos cleared his throat and Poppy turned and glowered at him, 

“Oh great, so he calls you, of course he calls you, he  _ always  _ calls you, for crying out loud.”

“I’m not sure what’s going on, Poppy-” she scoffed, “No really, I mean, I’m here for Wednesday night casserole with Jimmy, is everything alright? Is Joe OK?” She rolled her eyes at him, 

“Yeah, you know what he’s like, a fucking cry baby, he’s just overreacted and now he’s run off and he’s just so over-”

The door swung open and Jos could have snogged James Anderson there and then. 

“You’re late, Joseph, casserole’s ready, Ali was worried it’d go cold, why don’t you head on in and help him get everything set up?” Jos frowned, something was definitely wrong. Not that seeing Poppy hadn’t clued him in that something was afoot, but casserole wasn’t served for another twenty minutes at the earliest, they usually spent that time chatting in the kitchen over a beer, catching up.

“Yeah, sorry about that Jimmy, I left my phone charging and had to go back to get it.”

“Now, Poppy,” Jimmy leant against the doorframe, the message clear - you’re not coming into my home, “What can I do for you?”

Jos made his way past Jimmy through to the kitchen, unsure of what to expect. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart would lurch as he saw Joe and Ali sat on the floor, casserole forgotten, Joe hiccuping and wiping away tears and Ali murmuring softly, holding him tightly. 

“I just, I picked up the phone, why would she, how could she, I just, and I thought Matt and I got on and-”

Jos’ heart broke, and wordlessly he maneuvered himself around the kitchen, and crouched down next to the pair. Ali looked up and smiled at him, 

“Joey, Jos is here it’s a Wednesday -” Joe started, his eyes wide, and though he managed a smile it was strained, and Jos could tell he was overwhelmed, and that no matter how fond Joe was of him, his presence was not helping. 

“Why don’t you and Ali go into the living room, and I’ll finish up this casserole, huh?” he asked, and Ali shot him a grateful look before leading Joe out of the kitchen to the snug across the hall. 

Jimmy joined him about ten minutes later and they worked together in solemn silence until it was done. Jos picked up the dish to bring through to the dining room, and turned to ask Jimmy whether they should go and get Ali and Joe. Jimmy smiled, his eyes soft.

“I think we can take this into the snug. Extenuating circumstances. We can forgo the no food outside of the kitchen and dining room rule tonight.” 

* * *

The media is a fickle place. They sing your praise and call for your removal in the same breath. You try to stay away from their peaks and troughs when you can, just don’t tune in altogether and stay away from it all. But all the conversation around whether Joe Root is fit for captaincy, and would Joe Root even be in the squad if he wasn’t captain seem to be surrounding Joe at the moment, inescapable walls of criticism on every side. 

He’s not sure who he could talk to about this. His brother calls it imposter syndrome, that Joey you’re a genuinely incredible cricketer, how the  _ fuck _ can you not understand this. His sisters smile and offer support, not quite as tuned in to the pressure he’s facing having not been in the environment but grounding him and joking with him, telling him how he was definitely shit at french, but he’s not a translator, he’s a cricketer, and a jolly good one at that. 

But he knows today his brother had his own match, and his sisters were in America together and the criticism seemed to be getting louder until - 

“Joe?” 

He startles, and his phone falls to the floor. Jos stoops down to pick it up and frowns when he glances at the screen. It’s a particularly nasty tweet, criticising both Joe’s captaincy and his batting, and slating his short over playing to boot. 

“You don’t believe this do you, Joe?” he asks, hesitantly, looking at his test captain who in turn looks guiltily at his feet. 

Jos sits down next to Joe, and closes the offending tab, replacing it instead with two new tabs:  _ Joe Root’s Cricket World Cup _ , and  _ ESPN cricinfo _ ’s Joe Root page. 

“See this ? 556 runs in the tournament. I got 312, and it’s not a competition, but I know how much you love to watch me bat. And if you can rate my batting, then think how fond you'd be of your own as a spectator. You were the highest English run scorer of the tournament. And look at this. An average of 48 in test match batting. 94 matches and 7729 runs. Your stats are crazy. This person probably can’t even hold a cricket bat properly, and bowled one lad out in under-13s, with a career best of 1-55. C’mon soldier, I’ll man a bowling machine, and you can show me what a shitty batsman you are, how bout that. And once we’re done with that we can go get dinner from that new place down the road and bring some back for the rest of the lads.”

And if they spend hours there, with Joe resolutely blocking and driving the balls that Jos fires down the nets Jos thinks it’s worth it when Joe makes a small content noise when he makes good connection with the ball, or how he repeats an action and then nods when he thinks he’s executed it well. By the end of the session Joe seems more confident in his strokes, and is talking to Jos about the disastrous love triangle in the most recent chapter of his book, and Jos just smiles at him, with something painfully akin to love settling down in his stomach.

* * *

Ben had been having trouble with his bowling, feeling his side starting to feel tight and his ankle starting to get sore. When he’d told Joe this, with concerns that maybe he’d be better off playing just as a batsman next test, Joe had agreed, telling him to rest up well and to make sure he got an extra massage because he deserved it. 

But then Joe had sat down in the dressing room, head in hands, thinking about how to prevent this from happening next time. The commotion of the dressing room continued around him, but he was unaware. Mark throwing socks at Jonny, Chris meticulously packing his bag, Sam trying to juggle with some old balls, and Jos carefully turning down the corner of his page and leaving the room. He was too busy questioning himself. How hadn’t he noticed he was pushing Ben too hard. His spells had been too long, too intense, Ben already had the pressure of practically  _ carrying  _ the batting, because his own batting was letting everyone down. He’d been so concerned with making sure Jofra and Stu and Jimmy weren’t being over-bowled that he’d taken his all-rounder for granted. His favourite bowler, if he was being honest. Someone who always looked after him and always took the time out for him and he’d over-bowled him. 

Stuart had sat with him for fifteen minutes before he went home, talking to Joe about how the onus wasn’t on him, how there was no science to bowling and that over-bowling someone was always going to happen but that’s OK. Stokesy’ll be fine, he just needs a bit of a rest, but he’s not a specialist bowler anyway, Joe, he can still bat. Stuart had had to head home after fifteen minutes, because he’d promised to make dinner but he’d pressed a kiss to his forehead as he left. As he left he passed Jos, with a laptop tucked under one arm, blankets in the crook of the other and two cups of tea and saw Ben getting his extra massage through the door to physio and smiled to himself. 

And when Ben went to get his shoes he couldn’t help but smile. Both Josephs were sat on the floor, about half a foot apart, sharing a blanket, with Jos’ laptop on the bench in front of them. The screen had dimmed, whatever it is they were watching had finished, Jos’ book was open on the same page as earlier and Joe’s phone was on the floor by his hand. Both boys were asleep, and though neither were touching he felt like he was intruding on something oddly intimate. Joe’s face looked unconcerned in sleep, and he looked the least troubled he had done all test. Ben dimmed the lights on the way out, and sent a photo to Mark of the two lads as he got in his car. 

* * *

The life of a cricketer requires a lot of travelling. And the boys keep each other busy enough, and family visit enough of the tours that the time away. It’s the end of a particularly gruelling tour, but England snagged the victory in the end. They’ve headed back to the hotel, raucous cheers and chatter accompanying them all the way back, but Jos can’t help but notice how there’s a tired edge to Joe as he joins in with their banter. As they trapse into the dining room Jos keeps an eye on his captain, frowning as he sees Ben with his arm around Joe as Joe rests his head on Ben’s shoulder in the corridor before they parted as they entered the dining room and Joe forces a spring back into his step. 

The lads chatter merrily as they eat their tea, and Jos sneaks glances throughout the main course. His suspicions are confirmed when, despite Joe’s continued involvement in the ribbing and teasing and celebrations, he pushes his meal around his plate before taking small bites when he can. Jos knows Joe can’t leave his food- he’s struggled with food for a while and the ECB pay particular attention to his eating habits, and if it’s not the ECB, Ben definitely monitors Joe’s food, but his toying with the food means that something is definitely troubling him. 

When they’ve finished their meal Jos calls out to Joe, while Mark herds the rest of the team into their common room for goodness knows what sort of carnageful evening entertainment and Joe turns to stay behind. 

Jos clears his throat, hoping that his instincts are right. 

Joe raises an eyebrow, waiting for whatever it is Jos has kept him behind.

“Well played today.” Jos cringes inside,  _ pull yourself together Jos, ask him what’s up. _

Joe, bless his soul, smiles a soft smile. The one that he smiles whenever Jos, and anyone else for that matter, I’m sure you’re not special Joseph, has done something that is unexpected, but pleasant nonetheless.

“Thanks, Jos. You too. Is everything alright with you?” He smiles again, complete fondness written across his face as he sits back down and looks across at Jos. 

“What, yeah, why-” This is not how it was meant to go. You’re meant to be asking  _ him _ if everything is OK, Jos, “I actually wanted to ask how you were. Doing. How are you doing. Is everything alright with you?”

Jos can’t quite describe how Joe is looking at him at this moment. With evening sun shining through the window and their shouts of their teammates playing extreme Twister next door and his cheekbones and hair illuminated and his eyes shining. 

Joe is looking at him with complete adoration. 

But Jos doesn’t know that.

Joe smiles, this time a little ruefully. 

“Yeah, I’m good thanks. Exhausted, but we won. You can’t really complain can you?” 

They leave the unsaid  _ but  _ in the air and Joe sighs. 

“I suppose it’s just. It’s my dad’s birthday weekend, and they’re back home and we always go for a walk together at the end of the day up to the hill with the tyre swing. It’s a triangulation point. And we’d bring some drinks and swing and just, end the day with each other. Watching the sun set. And I guess…” He trails off, looking a bit embarrassed and fiddles with his sleeve.

“You miss them,” finishes Jos, smiling softly. Joe nods, sighing. 

“And of course I’m happy we won. Elated even, this is like, the dream. To captain an English Test side to victory abroad. But I keep thinking of small sausage rolls and carrot sticks and picnics on a hill and I just,” Jos can see Joe struggle for the right words, “It’s achey.” he reaches, finally, shrugging. 

Jos smiles. 

“I’m sure they’re thinking of you, too, Joe. How about we replace that hill with some extreme twister tonight, or some Drunk Darts, we’ll be back soon.” 

Joe smiles and they head into the common room together, where Stuart has booted up a karaoke machine, and is doing his best Dolly Parton.

Jos pulls out his phone, smiling as Stuart switches onto  _ I Will Always Love You _ , and scrolls through his contacts, and sends a quick text, before pocketing his phone again and tries to coerce Jimmy into some Celine Dion.

_ Hi Billy, it’s me, Jos. Firstly, many happy returns to your dad, and secondly, I have a favour to ask… _

When Joe finally makes his way back to his room, and plugs his phone in to charge he sees that there’s a video on their family group WhatsApp. He opens it and is met with a video, filmed from the triangulation point on top of the hill, with the sun setting in the background, filmed by his mum and his family beaming through the screen. He goes to sleep that night smiling, and that ache has eased. 

* * *

Joe looked terrible as he entered the dressing room, ready for training. His skin was clammy and pale, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair falling limp against his forehead. He pulled his spikes out as he slumped down on a bench, ignoring Stuart’s concerned glances and just trying to take it one step at a time. He feels the bench sink next to him and turns to see Chris, who plucks the shoe from Joe’s hand before he has even realised Chris had moved to take it. 

“Hey, maybe you should take today off, Joey” Chris murmurs, holding Joe’s shoe on his lap and trying to get Joe to lift his head enough to make eye contact with him. 

Joe shakes his head, adamant, and desperately trying to get his shoe back, with sluggish and lethargic movement. 

“Can’t, ‘m Captain, Chris. Can’t miss training just b’cause I’m tired.”

Joe successfully regains his shoe and shoves it on, ungainly and clumsy, before grabbing a bat and heading out. 

As he leaves Mark, Ben and Jos walk in, talking about the newest pop-up Thai place that Jos simply has to try, isn’t that right Mark, yes we had such a lovely time, I’d particularly recommend the Guay Teow, Jos, I really enjoyed that. 

Everyone gets ready as usual, and filter down to the pitch to start to work through their drills. When they reach the middle the Coach wastes no time starting them up on circuits, pairing them up and Chris has to push his concern for Joe to the side in favour of cardio. 

Ollie Pope, paired up with his Skipper, is concerned. 

He tries to get their Coach’s attention multiple times, but ‘if it’s not a question about the circuit Popey, we don’t have time. We have a lot to get through today.’ And when he tries to ask Joe about it, he gets a noncommittal grunt from the captain, and a further reprimand from the assistant coach about time wasting and chatter. Ollie keeps a close eye on Joe for the rest of the sets, but Joe makes it through, albeit somewhat slower than Ollie might expect. 

It’s when the coach calls them over and asks them to jog in that it happens. Joe stumbles and Ollie manages to catch him as he topples sideways. Unfortunately, Joe is a deadweight and Ollie falls with him, managing to slow them both down as they hit the ground. Immediately Jos is sprinting over, barking orders to elevate his feet, and for ‘somebody for Christ’s sake get him a drink, don’t just  _ stand there, do something _ ’.

Jos undoes the buttons on Joe’s polos, and makes sure Ollie has got his feet elevated, and by the time Ben appears with some water Joe is coming to. 

“Sorry” is the first thing out of his mouth and Jos could sock him in the jaw. 

“Sorry? Are you- are you apologising. For looking like hell warmed over and then  _ fainting- _ ”

“-I did not faint, I  _ passed out. _ ”

“No. You don’t get to choose whether it was fainting or passing out Joseph. Nor do you get a choice about whether you’re going to hospital or not. Because I’m driving you there.” Ollie tunes out of their bickering pretty quickly as he goes back to the rest of the lads. 

“He’ll be OK. He’s got Jos.” Stuart says, as Rory wraps an arm around him. 

“He’ll always have Jos”, said Jimmy, smiling fondly as Jos walked back to the dressing room, ready to get Joe checked out and looked after. 

* * *

Jos would struggle to tell you stand out times Joe makes it all better for him, because Joe makes it better for Jos every single day.

Remembering to pack an extra toothbrush when they go away, carrying a spare scarf and gloves in his bag when it’s cooler out. His different smiles, the gentle smile that twinkles in his eye when he knows he shouldn’t be laughing, the way he beams and his whole face lights up, throwing his head back to laugh or his small huffs of amusement. 

All of them help lift Jos’s mood, all of them help make him feel lighter. When Joe’s painfully polite, smiling and thanking waiters and hotel staff. When Joe simply _has_ to work on his bowling after a particularly low score on Jos’ side. 

The way he dances in the kitchen as he cooks when he thinks no one can see, singing along to Ella Fitzgerald when he thinks no one can hear (and then the next day calling Rory a sap for enjoying ‘that cheese’). How sneaky he thinks he’s being when he steals Jos’ hoodies, and seeing Joe wrapped up in his hoodies. 

The fact that he always makes time to smile at Jos when he sees him enter a room, and saves him a seat in the cinema when they go to see the newest Marvel film. 

How Joe keeps coffee in his cupboard despite his devotion to Yorkshire Tea and his hatred of coffee. All the little ways that Joe says I love you to Jos every day just help to make it all a little bit better for Jos, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, it's my first foray into fic writing... any advice/feedback would be appreciated !! Xx


End file.
